Mo Longyan POV

The hallway buzzed with movement, but Mo felt a pocket of calm as he fell into step beside Lan Zhan.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.”

Simple, but deliberate. His eyes softened—a rare, genuine smile. He thought of last night, of the distant darkness at the bus stop, of Lan Zhan’s silhouette fading into the streetlights. And he remembered the words, the emotions, the unspoken tension: This person… matters.

“You okay after last night?” Lan Zhan asked.

Mo nodded. “I am. You?”

The question hung in the air like a delicate balance. He noted the faint tension in Lan Zhan’s posture, the careful way he walked, and felt a subtle surge of protective instinct. They had shared something intense—something not easily forgotten.

“I think I just panicked in the right direction,” Lan Zhan said.

Mo’s quiet laugh escaped, almost instinctively. “That still counts.”

Then Qiao Yijun appeared, handing them flyers about the Paranormal Club. Mo scanned the flyer, curious but cautious. “Your vibe?” Lan Zhan said, nodding toward him.

Mo tilted his head. “Calm. Mysterious. Ghost-hunter adjacent,” he whispered under his breath. His mind analyzed the offer, the potential for discovery, and the faint thrill of the unknown.

Most importantly, he stayed close to Lan Zhan—not brushing off, not keeping distance. For once, he allowed himself a little vulnerability: Are we friends now?

He didn’t have to answer out loud. The shared silence, the side glances, the way they walked together—those small, unspoken truths were enough.